


Better Living Through Retail

by canistakahari



Series: Bones-breaks-a-leg-'verse [6]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Begging, Birthday Presents, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mild Kink, Sex Toys, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim decides to get Bones an X-box for his birthday. This backfires on him a little when it comes time for Birthday Sex. Luckily Jim is nothing if not resourceful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Living Through Retail

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the third round of km_anthology. The prompt was “inflatable toys”. 
> 
> The games mentioned here are Beautiful Katamari and Assassin’s Creed II. I’ve linked two videos in the fic if you need a point of reference (though the AssCreed video is actually for Revelations not II, but it is still highly relevant.)

It starts with an X-box 360.   
  
Actually, what it really starts with is a lazy afternoon spent baby-sitting Holly and Alice while Sam and Aurelan are off doing grown-up things. They’ve left Jim and Bones sprawled half-asleep on the couch, Bones with his feet in Jim’s lap and his body practically horizontal, while the girls sit on the floor in their pajamas and lazily play video games.  
  
“Shouldn’t they be running around outside or something?” mumbles Bones, his eyelids drooping sleepily as he sips at a cup of coffee.  
  
Jim turns his head to look out the semi-darkened window at the pounding rain. “If you want them both to catch pneumonia and die, sure, that’s a great idea.”  
  
Bones grunts, only half-listening. Most of his attention is engaged in a bewildered struggle to focus on the candy-coloured madness of the video game, but apparently it’s difficult for his tired weekend brain to cope with the sheer levels of nonsense that encompass [Beautiful Katamari](http://youtu.be/DwaZnlyNKuY).   
  
“There is something happening to my face,” he says eventually. “But I don’t know what it is.”   
  
“You have to roll a ball of stuff,” answers Alice without taking her eyes off the screen. “As big as possible, before the time runs out. If you lose, the angry king yells at you.”  
  
There’s a deep pause occupied only by disproportionately cheerful music.   
  
“Like that,” says Holly smugly. Alice makes a noise of heartfelt rage and shoves the controller into her sister’s hands.  
  
“Is that the king?” asks Bones.  
  
“Uh huh,” says Alice. “He’s crazy.”  
  
“He’s speaking in record scratches,” Bones says dumbly.   
  
“Here, Uncle Leo, you try,” says Holly, passing over the controller. “We can never get past this level anyway.”   
  
Clearly, this is not what Bones is expecting. Jim can see the indecision in his face; how his delight at getting included (and called  _uncle_!) is warring violently with his wariness at attempting something unfamiliar that could lead to complete humiliation. “Uh,” says Bones, holding the X-box controller as gingerly as if it were a dead bug. “Are you sure you don’t want Jim to try?”  
  
Holly snorts. “Uncle Jim is even worse at this than we are.”  
  
“Hey!” protests Jim. He leans forward and tweaks Holly’s ear. “Watch it, munchkin. I know where you live.”  
  
“All you gotta do is push the left stick and the right stick forward to move,” pipes up Alice helpfully. “And if you want to turn around, press the left or right triggers.”  
  
“What,” says Bones, panicking briefly as the level begins. “I’ve never—I’ve never actually held one of these before, baby girl. You’re using words that I theoretically understand in a context that means nothing to me.”  
  
“The two grey ones, push ‘em forward!” shouts Alice.  
  
Tentatively, Bones does.   
  
“Oh god,” says Bones, his eyes widening. “Ohgodohgodoh _god_  what is happening.” The character on the screen rolls forward, crashing into a set of shelves.  
  
“You can’t pick those things up yet,” says Jim, watching the chaos unfold with serene satisfaction. “You’re not big enough.”  
  
“Well, I’d  _be_  bigger if I could pick those things up!” yells Bones. “Wha—what the he—ck is that?” he demands. “Did I just roll up a  _cat_?”  
  
“Uh huh,” says Jim.   
  
“That was a person! I just rolled up a  _person_! I can see their legs flailing! Is this  _legal_? What the ever-loving—” Bones’s gaze darts to the girls and he cuts himself off abruptly, just as his character onscreen goes hurtling off a ledge. “NO! NO NO NO! I just fell of the god—how am I supposed to get back  _up_? GOD… _DANGIT_.”  
  
“You’re running out of time,” Jim points out.  
  
“I’m going as fast as I can!” hollers Bones. His expression indicates he’s about to latch on to the challenge of rolling the biggest ball of stuff  _ever_  just as stubbornly as a crazed wolverine. He will not let go until he starves to death or gets clubbed over the head. “Oh, that’s horseshi—ih tzu! I LOST? I FU—FLIPPING  _LOST_? What does it want me to do, DEVELOP SUPERPOWERS? THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE. I was only 2 cm short! This is BALLS.”  
  
“You’re supposed to roll up stuff that has a nautical theme,” Jim says.  
  
The glare Bones directs his way has visibly sharp edges. “A nautical theme,” he repeats flatly.  
  
“Boats an’ stuff,” adds Holly.  
  
“Dolphins,” says Alice thoughtfully.  
  
Bones’s eyebrow twitches.   
  


oOo

  
  
Three hours later, long after the girls have gotten bored and wandered off to do something enriching and educational, Bones is still parked in front of the X-box, growling threats and pleas at the bastard gods of Microsoft. He’s painstakingly forced his way through five levels despite repeated and consistent failure, and at one point Jim desperately needed a piss but was highly reluctant to get up and go to the bathroom in case he missed more of the Bones Sucks at Gaming show.   
  
When Sam and Aurelan eventually come in the door, Holly and Alice are in the kitchen eating cereal for dinner while Bones has a contained nervous breakdown over the diameter of his Katamari and Jim eggs him ruthlessly on.  
  
“Never have children,” says Sam. “You had to let them have the Lucky Charms? There were Cheerios right there!”  
  
“Hey, you can blame your darling daughters for this,” says Jim. “They’re the ones that made him play.”  
  
“As if you just implied your husband was peer-pressured into video games by my  _children_ ,” says Sam. “You get to put the sugar-fuelled monsters to bed, Jim. Leonard, turn that off before you hurt yourself.”  
  
“One more level,” snaps Bones. “If you make me lose I will  _end you_.”  
  
“I haven’t even shown him grown up games yet,” says Jim.   
  


oOo

  
  
It just makes sense, after all that, to buy Bones an X-box for his up-coming birthday.  
  
It also makes sense to buy him an inflatable butt plug, but for entirely different reasons.  
  


oOo

  
  
“If you’re embarrassed about going into a sex shop, just say so,” says Jim. He takes a huge bite out of his pretzel and shakes loose a cloud of parmesan cheese. It settles all down his front like a dusting of snow. “Oops.”  
  
“Don’t you dare lick your fingers,” snaps Bones, halting Jim in exactly that action. “You haven’t washed your hands in two hours and you’ve been touching every single thing in the damn mall. Hold still.” He brushes Jim off, a scowl furrowing his brow.  
  
“You’re changing the subject,” accuses Jim through a mouthful of the fluffy bread. “I can go get the lube, if you want.”  
  
Bones gives him an incredulous look, his lips pursing. Jim kisses his mouth impulsively and enjoys the flush that climbs high into his cheeks.   
  
“Stop it,” says Bones, rolling his eyes. “I’m not sure how you think I’m capable of being a doctor if just the  _idea_  of going into a sex shop embarrasses me. What I  _am_  embarrassed by is the thought of going in there while you’re eating. If you get crumbs on the dildos, I’m going to pretend I don’t know you.”  
  
“Oh,” says Jim. He swallows thickly. “That makes more sense. Okay, you go choose the lube, since you’re the one that hates the stuff I get from the grocery store.”  
  
“It tastes like shit,” says Bones, making a sour face. “Good water-based lube should never taste like anything.”  
  
“If you’d just try some of the flavoured lube—”  
  
“What, so your cock can taste like watermelon? Get out of my life,” says Bones dismissively.   
  
“Fine,” says Jim. “Lube is your department. I want to look at some other stuff anyway.”  
  
Bones gives him a look of distrust that is totally unwarranted.   
  
“You know,” continues Jim. “Sexy stuff. Of sex.”  
  
“Stop talking,” suggests Bones.  
  
“Okay,” says Jim.  
  


oOo

  
  
Jim leaves Bones in quiet contemplation of the giant wall of lubricants and sidles off into the back of the store where the restraints are kept.   
  
He’s been toying with the idea of tying Bones up for a while.  
  
Once, just to get Bones to stop squirming, Jim had gripped him hard by the wrists and pinned him flat to the bed. Bones had arched up beneath him and yowled like a cat.   
  
After  _that_  mind-blowing round of sex, Jim had conducted several very scientific follow-up studies, and while each set of circumstances was different, Bones had consistent and reliable reactions to any and all attempts to restrain or hold him still.  
  
So Jim stands, and he stares at a wide array of restraints, and imagines Bones strapped to their bed, exposed and helpless.   
  
“Happy birthday, Bones,” he murmurs, carefully selecting a padded pair of leather wrist cuffs. “Hell, happy  _not_ -birthday to me!”  
  


oOo

  
  
When he returns to the wall o’lubricant, Bones isn’t there.  
  
A wander around the store leads Jim to the anal toys, and to Bones, who is standing by a rack of display models. He’s holding a bottle of lube in one hand and the pump to an inflatable plug in the other, compressing it gently and watching the plug grow with a rapt expression on his face.  
  
“Hey,” says Jim, making sure he doesn’t talk until he’s directly behind Bones.   
  
“Auugh!” says Bones. He drops the pump like it’s scalding and whirls on Jim, tellingly flushed.   
  
“What are you doing?” asks Jim, grinning.   
  
Bones sputters. “What does it look like? I’m trying stuff out!” His gaze travels down to the cuffs in Jim’s hands and his cheeks flush a deeper red.   
  
“It’s your birthday soon,” Jim says mildly.  
  
“And you thought it would be fun to spoil a present?” grumps Bones, handing the lube to Jim and turning back towards the hastily abandoned plug.   
  
Jim gives Bones a moment before he steps right up behind him. “I wonder about it too, you know,” he murmurs, deliberately brushing the shell of Bones’s ear with his lips.   
  
Bones shudders. “What?” he says quietly. They both watch the plug inflate as Bones gives the pump a series of rhythmic squeezes.   
  
“Just how much you can take.”  
  
“Jim,” groans Bones, his eyelids fluttering briefly closed.  
  
“You should go pay for the lube,” Jim says firmly, nudging Bones with his elbow.   
  
“And what are you going to do?” Bones asks. There’s an appealingly ragged quality to his voice.  
  
“Oh, I’m just going to pick up a couple of other things and have them wrapped,” Jim says easily.   
  
Bones obediently takes the bottle of lube, his pupils dilated and his lips parted as he flicks his gaze over Jim, pausing on the cuffs in his hands, before he meets Jim’s eyes. “Okay,” he says finally, clearing his throat. “Okay. I need a drink, anyway. I’ll be… by the Jamba Juice.”  
  
Jim watches him go and daydreams shamelessly.  
  


oOo

  
  
The week leading up to Bones’s birthday might just be the longest week in Jim’s life.   
  
He’s carefully wrapped the X-box 360 and a copy of Assassin’s Creed II, and the more x-rated toys are hidden under the bed. He’s booked a table at the restaurant Bones took them to for their first date, and he’s stashed a bottle of bourbon in the cabinet.  
  
All he can think about is getting Bones under him and working him open until he’s sobbing.   
  
Unfortunately, Jim may have made a tactical error.   
  
Dinner goes well, obviously. They’re both extremely good at eating their feelings, so whatever excitement or anxiety Jim might be experiencing gets devoured in the form of lamb chops and chocolate truffles, while Bones seems to be smothering his jitters in as much cornbread as possible.   
  
So that’s all fine. No issues there.  
  
It’s about an hour after they get home that Jim realises his fatal mistake.   
  
He  _really_  shouldn’t have given Bones the X-box first.  
  
Apparently, there is nothing better than murderous video games for easing nervousness, judging by the instantaneous way Bones  _completely forgets_  about what’s been waiting for him in the bedroom.   
  
At midnight, Bones is lying on the couch  _still playing_  when he should be tied naked and sobbing to the bed.  
  
Needless to say, Jim is getting a little restless.   
  
It doesn’t seem to matter that Bones is categorically incapable of keeping Ezio the sexy assassin alive and uninjured for longer than five minutes. His default state of virtual being appears to be one of plummeting headlong into the ground for another spectacular game over and yet there is  _nothing_  Jim could do short of picking up the console and hurling it out the window to stop him playing.   
  
“Please stop,” says Jim wearily. “You will never win. You will die alone and a failure.”  
  
“Just five more minutes,” Bones says impatiently.   
  
The worst part is that Bones hasn’t even  _looked_  at Jim in over three hours except to shoot him brief glances when he’s inevitably mobbed by guards or forgets to hold B while he’s running and careens into a gang of civilians like a hopeless alcoholic, knocking everyone to the ground, himself included. They’re adorably incredulous expressions, like he just can’t believe that’s happened to him. Again.   
  
Jim’s lost count of the game over screens. He was in the hundreds, though. Bones is not a good assassin.  
  
“ _Bones_!”  
  
“Five! More! Minutes!”  
  
“You’ve said that  _six times_!” Jim protests. “Do you know what 5 times 6 is? 30. It’s 30. That’s 30 minutes. Half an hour. Half an hour ago is when you should’ve been tied to the bed. Hell,  _two hours ago_  is when you should’ve been tied to the bed.”  
  
“What?” says Bones. “Oh, no, nononono, [Ezio, you DRUNK SON OF A BITCH, climb, don’t fall](http://youtu.be/qsKP2o0--3s?t=5m59s)! Get back up there!”  
  
Jim purses his lips. He’s not annoyed, really. It’s nobody’s fault but his own. He engineered this entire fiasco.   
  
He’s just… frustrated. Sexually frustrated.   
  
So he gets up, and he goes to the bedroom, where he collects the rest of Bones’s birthday present.   
  
Unsurprisingly, Bones hasn’t moved or observed Jim’s absence. He’s mid-curse when Jim returns and so intent on the in-game action that he doesn’t immediately notice Jim pushing his knees apart to kneel down between them. He doesn’t even notice as Jim starts to remove his jeans.  
  
He  _does_  notice when Jim’s head gets in the way of the television.  
  
“What are you doing?” he demands, pressing pause on the controller to direct a gaze of endearing confusion down at Jim.   
  
“Undressing you,” says Jim. “It took a disturbing amount of time for you to notice.”  
  
“I had to shank a dude,” explains Bones, shifting his hips for Jim to shimmy his jeans down to his thighs.   
  
“Introducing you to the addictive world of video games may have been a mistake,” admits Jim. “You haven’t opened all your presents, yet.”  
  
“Just one more mission,” promises Bones, giving Jim a pleading look.   
  
And, just like that, Jim gets an idea.  
  


oOo

  
  
“WHY ARE YOU CRAWLING  _OUT_  OF THE HIDEY-HOLE HAYSTACK?” wails Bones, a sob hitching in his chest. “STEALTH, MOTHERFUCKER, YOU HAD IT! No, no, no, HIDE from the guards, don’t THROW YOURSELF INTO THEIR MIDST!”  
  
On screen, Ezio disappears behind a wall of angry guards and the tinny sound of weapons clashing fills the air.  
  
“Was that a fail?” asks Jim serenely.  
  
“Yes,” moans Bones miserably. “Considering I just got murdered, yes, you fucker, that was a FUCKING FAIL.” His entire body tenses as Jim inflates the plug just a little more, shuddering so hard he grinds his hips into Jim’s lap.   
  
“Easy,” says Jim, stroking the small of Bones’s back to settle him. “I believe the only way you’re getting to come tonight is if you complete this mission, am I right? ‘Just one more mission,’ you said.”  
  
“There aren’t words for just how much I hate you right now,” whimpers Bones.   
  
He’s sprawled in a boneless heap across Jim’s lap, completely naked, contorted into what looks like a spectacularly uncomfortable position. Only half his face is visible, and his fingers are white-knuckled as he clutches the controller and restarts the mission.  
  
“Watch out for that ledge,” points out Jim helpfully.  
  
“Shut up,” snaps Bones. His hands are shaking as he clumsily scales a building.  
  
With subtly casual affectation, Jim reaches down between Bones’s wantonly spread legs and tweaks the placement of the plug. Bones grunts, his grip on the controller loosening; as if in slow-motion, Ezio plunges off the rooftop.   
  
“Game over,” says Jim.  
  
“You’re evil,” rasps Bones, squirming as Jim’s fingers skate over the flushed, shiny skin where his hole is stretched around the steadily-growing plug. “Th—that’s not fair, that’s…that’s….” His eyes go glassy as Jim cups his tight balls. “Interference,” he finishes in a rough voice.  
  
“I don’t remember discussing conditions,” says Jim. He gives Bones two more pumps and watches in fascination as the muscles in Bones’s back ripple as he clenches around the plug. “Are you going to continue?”  
  
Bones’s jaw tics. There’s a rosy flush to his skin, his hair stuck to his forehead in damp locks. It is the most obvious thing in the world to Jim, who is the leading expert on Bones-ology, that he is trying extremely fucking hard not to rut into Jim’s thighs.  
  
With a sharp huff, Bones restarts the mission.  
  
“It’s my birthday,” he says in a barely-there voice. “There’s no way I’m not getting to come on my own fucking birthday.”  
  
Jim’s lips curl into a smirk. “You’re not in charge, though, are you? You forfeited that right when you prioritized a  _game_  over my repeated offers of sexual pleasure.”  
  
Something like a whimper curls around Bones’s lungs. He fumbles at the left stick to get Ezio moving again, scaling a nearby tower as a short-cut, and then he accidentally hits A as he gets to the top.  
  
Ezio jumps.   
  
Bones lets out an outraged sound. He doesn’t die, but Jim decides it’s enough of a failure to warrant another press of the pump.  
  
“Oh god!” cries Bones, his hips jerking in surprise. The controller falls right out of his hands, clattering to the floor.   
  
“You better pick that up, some guards have seen you,” Jim suggests calmly.   
  
Bones makes a muffled noise, his face buried into a couch cushion. He’s trembling hard, sweat standing out in a dull gleam on his blotchy skin. “I can’t,” he gasps. His body bucks reflexively, hole spasming around the rubber toy buried deep inside. “Jim, I,  _please_!”  
  
“Are you sure?” Jim asks. “You could still have a chance.”  
  
“It’s too much,” Bones says raggedly. His toes curls, hips pushing forward mindlessly for friction. “Too much, I’m so full, oh  _god_.”  
  
Jim thumbs at the base of the plug and gives it a sharp tap. Bones grunts, turning his face to the side to give Jim a one-eyed glare.   
  
“Look at that sweet hole,” he murmurs. On screen, Ezio has long been spotted and killed, another game over flashing at them accusingly. “All plugged up. I bet you could take just a bit more, don’t you think, Bones?”  
  
Bones breathes raggedly, his lips parting as his lungs heave with effort of not coming. “I...I don’t… know.”  
  
“Does it hurt?” asks Jim. He strokes Bones down the length of his spine like he’s calming a spooked animal and then pats him firmly on one ass-cheek just to hear him squeak.   
  
“No,” admits Bones. “No, it’s good, never been so full.”  
  
“Bet it’s all this delicious pressure, right on your prostate, huh?” Jim presses down on Bones’s perineum with two fingers and Bones bucks into his lap, the throbbing heat of his erection trapped between Jim’s clothed thighs.   
  
“Yes,” moans Bones, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “A bit more. Can take a bit more...”  
  
“That’s what I like to hear,” croons Jim.   
  
Because Jim is not a total asshole that would deny his husband an orgasm on his own birthday, he inflates the plug twice more, wraps his other hand around Bones’s flushed cock, and jerks him off until Bones comes all over them both with an overwhelmed sob.  
  
Then, while Bones is still half-passed out in his lap and helpless to complain about the indignity of being carried, Jim hauls him into the bedroom, dumps him on the bed, and cuffs his wrists to the headboard.  
  
Fucking _finally_.  
  
Bones blinks at him dizzily through blown-wide pupils, legs falling open just so to admit Jim between them.  
  
“You’re such an enabler,” Bones mumbles. Jim hasn’t removed the plug; likes the sight of it snug between Bones’s legs far too much to let this be over yet, no matter how hard his own neglected dick is right now.   
  
And the pump is  _right there_ , tempting him. He can’t resist giving it another squeeze.  
  
Bones mewls and arches his hips right back into the mattress, hole clenching weakly around the plug. “Not fair,” he moans.   
  
“You’re going to be so loose and slick,” murmurs Jim, fondling Bones’s softened cock. “Wet and warm and gaping open, waiting for me to fill you up.”  
  
Bones squirms, his cheeks flushed a deep pink. “What are you waiting for?”  
  
Jim sighs. It’s with a sense of vast disappointment that he releases the pressure and deflates the plug, Bones letting out an almost wounded noise as Jim gently tugs it free.   
  
“What?” he teases, thumbing at the swollen red pucker and dipping two curious fingers inside. “What’s the matter?”  
  
“If you make me  _ask_  for you to fuck me after all that, I will kick you in the fucking face,” Bones says, sounding utterly wrecked. Jim has never seen him so strung out. Knowing that he did this—that  _he_  brought Bones right to the brink and worked him into this state of frantic desperation—tightens the coil of arousal wrapped around Jim’s balls.  
  
“It’s okay, Bones,” he soothes, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Bones’s ravaged lips. “I gotcha.”  
  
He takes one more moment to appreciate the sight of Bones’s exposed chest, the flat plane of his stomach, and the tense muscles of his bound arms before he coaxes Bones’s legs around his hips. Bones takes him like a natural, groaning as Jim’s cock slots into the intoxicating heat of his body like he’s always been meant to be there.   
  
“Hey,” says Jim softly, curling his thumb under Bones’s chin and tilting his face into another kiss. Bones meets his gaze and sighs, nudging his body into the slow stroke of Jim’s hips.  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“Happy birthday, Bones.”  
  


oOo

  
  
The next morning, Jim wakes up cold and alone in bed because  _some_   _motherfucker_  has  _stolen the entire duvet_.  
  
Further investigation reveals the culprit to be Bones, who is—surprise surprise!—cocooned in the aforementioned duvet on the couch, quietly swearing his way through another round of Assassin’s Creed II.  
  
“I’m cold,” whines Jim.  
  
“Well, my ass feels like you shoved your fist in it last night, so pardon me for my complete lack of sympathy,” retorts Bones.  
  
“My fist...” echoes Jim thoughtfully.   
  
Bones scowls at the TV but Jim knows it’s meant for him. “Stop looking at me like that.”  
  
“No, no, hear me out. I have another challenge for you....”


End file.
